


The Princess Bride

by zurimadison



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, HPRomione Discord's ROMioneCOM Challenge, ROMioneCOM, Romance, The Princess Bride References, True Love, do you think this happens every day?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29607525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zurimadison/pseuds/zurimadison
Summary: Dueling. Fighting. Torture. Revenge. Giants. Monsters. Chases. Escapes. Miracles. True love.A Romione reimaging of The Princess Bride. Magical AU.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9
Collections: RomioneCom





	The Princess Bride

**Author's Note:**

> The Princess Bride is one of my favorite movies, in large part because my family watched together (A LOT) while I was growing up, so I am very excited take on the reimagining of this tale for ROMioneCOM! I haven't written it all yet (shocker) but I think it'll only be four chapters. I want to dedicate this story to the HPRomione Discord Server, who makes me laugh every day, even if they don't know it. :)
> 
> For anyone who maybe hasn't seen The Princess Bride, it's chock-full of wildly quotable and brilliant lines, which I did borrow heavily here. So if there's quote that you really like, I probably didn't write it myself, and you should go watch the movie (or read the book, which is also brilliant)!
> 
> Shout out to cheesyficwriter, who beta'd this for me and put up with me fretting over what to name my imaginary countries.

Ronald B. Weasley was raised on a small farm in the south of Florin, the youngest son of a well-liked wizarding lineage. The family was a loving one, although they existed modestly. His older brothers were all advantageously married, and he lived quietly with his parents and sister, Ginny, in relative simplicity. His favorite pastimes were riding his broom around the countryside and tormenting their maid, Hermione (though he never called her that).

“Farm maid,” Ron said, commanding the attention of the bushy haired woman. Hermione had been working for the Weasley family since her youth, so Ron had known her for most of his life. They’d played together in the gardens as children, and although she lived in the servant quarters and tended to her daily chores, they maintained a friendly relationship. Nothing gave Ron as much pleasure as teasingly spoiling Hermione’s tasks, before assisting her in rectifying what he’d set wrong.

“The chickens need feeding and you’ve misplaced their victuals.” He smirked, blue eyes twinkling in the sun. Hermione set down the pail of water she’d been carrying, watching Ron suspiciously. She placed her callused hands on her petite hips.

“Whatever do you mean?” She asked, her voice shrill. In response, Ron merely raised his eyes to look pointedly above her head, where a large bag of grain was dangling by a rope from a tree, just above her short stature. “Oh, Ronald,” she tsked, seeming to fight a smile. 

“Don’t let my mum hear you say that,” he warned, though he took several steps towards her to lower his voice conspiratorially. “Using my first name.”

“As you wish,” she replied, curtsying mockingly and extracting her wand. “Now please assist me in retrieving the chicken feed, Master Weasley.”

Ron wasn’t exempt from his own chores, so the family and their staff passed the days in mutual hard work and respect. To avoid the constant company of their well meaning parents, Ron and Ginny often passed their evenings beside the wood stove in the kitchen, talking and warming their hands.

“Farm maid,” Ron said in mock sternness, flicking his wand lazily. “At this pace, how will you ever be able to polish all the supper dishes? I want to see my face shining in them by morning.”

Hermione glared at him in exasperation, looking torn between lecturing and laughing as the rags and abrasive cleaning pads lifted out of the sink and swirled around her in mid air, dripping water on the floor.

“Master Weasley,” she chided. “Desist this nonsense at once.”

He chuckled as he stood, snagging a wet cloth in his large freckled hand as he crossed the room. “They’re of their own minds. It seems you must catch them before you can resume your task.”

He offered her the rag teasingly, and when she reached to accept it, their hands brushed gently. His breath caught in his throat as quite another emotion filled the depths of her soft brown eyes. “As you wish, Ron,” she whispered.

He retreated quickly back to his seat by the fire, ignoring Ginny’s knowing smirk and considering the situation carefully. 

That day, he was amazed to discover that when she was saying “as you wish,” what she meant was “I love you.”

He was even more amazed the day he realized he truly loved her in return.

It was dusk on a chill, fall evening, and Ron stood in the broom shed, helping Hermione polish the sporting equipment. The soft lighting played gently on her face, which was scrunched in concentration as she worked, though he found the crinkles of skin around her nose to be quite distracting. 

“Farm maid,” he spoke before he was sure of what exactly he wanted to say, though he knew he could stay silent no longer. She looked up at him, and he cast around wildly for a task. “Fetch me that pitcher?”

Hermione eyed the small water container that sat within his arm’s reach, her obvious suspicion causing him to grin widely. She stood and took a few cautious steps towards him, reaching out a shaking hand to pick up the vessel. “As you wish,” she breathed, offering it to him and raising her eyes tentatively to meet his own.

Overcome by his feelings, Ron stood and pulled her into his arms, the pitcher crashing to the floor, forgotten. 

They passed a few weeks delightfully in love before confronted by the reality of their situation. Hermione made the decision to relinquish her employment at the farm and pursue study as an Alchemist in France. The position would afford her rank and autonomy enough for them to enter into a respectable marriage, so she packed her few belongings and left to seek her fortune.

“I fear I’ll never see you again,” Ron whispered, holding her tightly at the front gate of the farm. If these were to be their last moments together for the foreseeable future, he never wanted to let her go.

“Of course you will,” Hermione told him, smiling through her tears. “This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?”

“Mione,” he breathed, and turned his head to kiss her passionately, tasting the salt of their mingled tears on his tongue as he fought the pressure in his chest that threatened to overwhelm him. He watched her walk away, meeting her gaze with one final smile before she disapparated. 

Hermione never made it to her destination. She was waylaid on her journey by Greyback’s Snatchers, an infamous band of miscreants who never left captives alive. When news of her untimely demise reached Ron’s farm, he shut himself in his room, and for days neither ate nor slept.

“Dearest brother,” Ginny said, reaching for his hand as he stared out the window distractedly. “I loved her too, but I can’t stand to lose you. Please come back to me.”

Ron’s face was drawn, the bags under his eyes puffy and blue. He stared through Ginny as though she wasn’t there, barely acknowledging her question. “I will never love again.”

* * *

FIVE YEARS LATER

The all wizarding village of Florin City was overflowing with people and livestock, gathering excitedly in the main square. The Princess of Florin had finally chosen a groom, and today was the day she was to introduce him to the public. 

She stood on the balcony overlooking the square, watching the agitated crowd mill around below her. She was a short woman, resembling a pale toad. She had a broad face and bulging eyes, offset by her mousy brown hair which was swept up under a large, ornate crown. She was wearing a pink corseted dress, which did little to accentuate her squat form.

“Princess Dolores.” A woman with thick, shining dark hair and heavily lidded eyes stepped forward. She held herself confidently, her curves obvious in her formal red gown. “They are ready for you.”

“Thank you, Countess Bellatrix,” the Princess responded, her simpering, high pitch voice in stark contrast to her appearance. Bellatrix signalled to the trumpeters as Dolores raised her wand to her throat, muttering “Sonorus.” The trumpets blasted through the square, causing the crowd to grow silent. 

“Hem-Hem.” Dolores surveyed their submissive faces before she spoke, her magically amplified voice echoing. “I have considered my responsibility of finding a husband as a matter of vital importance. The traditions of our great nation are tried and true, and I intend to preserve them as they ought to be preserved.” She paused here for a smattering of polite applause. “A month from now is our country’s 500th anniversary, and on that sundown, I will marry a man who was once a commoner, like yourselves.” She tilted her head to the side, then lifted her arm to draw the crowd’s attention to a slowly opening portcullis in the courtyard below where she stood. “But perhaps, you won’t find him so common now.”

The assembly held a collective breath as the gate opened fully. A figure emerged from the shadows, cutting an impressive stature. The man was tall and broad, dressed in a dark blue doublet that matched his eyes. He had a sword buckled around his waist and a velvet cape draped over his shoulders that extended to the ground. His red hair was cropped closely, a simple golden circle set upon it. 

Princess Dolores’ voice reverberated over the crowd once more. “Might I introduce... Prince Ronald.”

His handsome, freckled face was unreadable as the crowd gazed at him in silence, before they slowly descended to their knees as one. Ron watched the people around him; he took in their kneeling forms with glistening eyes, his square jaw ticking imperceptibly. He looked up at the Princess, whose squashed face smiled back down at him unpleasantly. His emptiness consumed him, for though the law of the land gave Dolores the right to choose her groom, he did not love her.

* * *

A month previously, Princess Dolores had unceremoniously plucked Ron and Ginny away from their family’s farm and relocated them to Florin’s capital. She’d seen Ron riding his broom one afternoon while hunting with her company, and had been instantly taken with his handsomeness. After visiting his parents, she’d found his family’s reputation to be highly esteemed, which suited her needs nicely. The match was advantageous for his kin, and won her much needed publicity with her people. 

Ron himself had been resistant to the idea, attempting to politely decline her offer. She’d been quite insistent, going as far as abducting Ginny for collateral, effectively ensuring Ron’s cooperation. He didn’t know where Ginny was being kept, and as long as her whereabouts were unknown, he was forced into submission to Dolores’ whims. She’d thus far only kept him dressed in the finest and paraded him around in public, but with the impending wedding, he knew it was only a matter of time before she asked more of him.

The only joy he found was in his daily rides on his broom, in which he was allowed to explore Florin’s countryside on his own and leave his cares behind in the castle. On this fine morning, he was cruising at a slow speed, enjoying the weather and the sensation of the sun against his skin.

“Good sir, a word?” Ron turned towards the Florin channel, spotting three men standing at the edge of the water in front of a moored ship, waving him down. 

The most notable was a giant, towering over his companions. Ron estimated he was over eleven feet tall, with hands as big as dustbin lids. His face was nearly hidden under his long tangled dark beard and hair, except for his eyes, which glittered like black beetles. The second man was on the short side, though he was burly and muscular. He had striking green eyes and a distinguishing scar on his forehead. His unruly black hair stuck out in all directions, and he stood squarely with one hand placed confidently on his sword hilt. The final man was tall and thin, with long beach blonde hair and a perpetually sneering expression. His face was pale and pointed, and he carried a dark walking stick with a silver snake head on the top.

Ron hopped off his broom and clutched it tightly in his fist, approaching them cautiously. “Of course, fair travelers. How may I assist?”

The blonde spoke up. “We are sailors, kind sir, and quite lost at the moment. Can you tell us, is there a village around?”

Ron shook his head. “I’m sorry to say there is nothing around here, sailor, not for many miles.”

The blonde’s unpleasant face curled into a malicious smile. “Then there will be no one around to hear you yell.” Before Ron could process what he’d said, the giant reached out with his large hands and touched a nerve on Ron’s neck, causing him to lose consciousness. 

The giant caught Ron’s prone body before it fell. “Wha’ now, Lucius?” His low voice rumbled. The blonde man- Lucius- twisted his talking stick, pulling the top off of it completely, revealing his wand.

“Take him to the ship, Hagrid,” Lucius barked. “Confiscate his wand.” As the giant shuffled away, Lucius summoned a cloak from the boat, then muttered a severing charm to remove the emblem. 

“What are you doing?” The green eyed man asked interestedly.

“This is the Guilder coat of arms,” Lucius explained in a condescending drawl, without bothering to look up at his companion.

“Guilder?” Hagrid’s low voice rumbled from the boat. He was obviously still listening.

“The country across the channel,” Lucius spat impatiently, using a sticking charm to attach the torn pieces of cloak to Ron’s broomstick. “They are the sworn enemy of Florin.” He released the broomstick into the air, where it began to drift lazily back to Dolores’ castle.

“Why did you do that?” The green eyed man asked again.

“Because, Harry,” Lucius droned, with the air of someone explaining something very simple. He stalked back towards the boat. “Once the Princess finds the emblem of Guilder on her love’s broom, she’ll suspect foul play. When she finds his body, slain on Guilder land, her suspicions will be confirmed.”

Harry and Lucius boarded the ship, where Lucius settled himself on the bow, watching impatiently as Hagrid and Harry hustled around to prepare the boat.

“You ne’er said nothin’ ‘bout killin’,” Hagrid said, sounding uncertain as he blinked his black eyes.

“I’ve hired you to help me start a war,” Lucius drawled, overly enunciating his words. “It’s a prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition.”

“I jus’ don’ think it’s righ’,” the giant pushed. 

Harry jumped to his aid. “I agree with Hagrid.”

“What happens to the Princess’ betrothed is of no concern to you,” Lucius snapped. “How much longer til we are ready?”

“Jus’ a mo’,” Hagrid grunted. He and Harry were set urgently to their tasks, the former pulling at ropes while the latter used his wand to tie the knots into place. The ship slowly left the shore, with Lucius sighing dramatically. 

“If you’d like us to go faster, you could assist you know,” Harry told him, grunting as he helped Hagrid pull on a rope.

“I need not deign to waste my talents,” Lucius sneered. “You are under my employ, you sniveling, wastes of space. When I found you,” he turned his ire on Harry, who held his tongue but glared back at the man obstinately. “You were so slobbering drunk, you couldn’t buy firewhiskey.” Harry had the dignity to look slightly ashamed, but stood his ground. 

“And you,” Lucius whipped around and took angry steps towards Hagrid. “Friendless. Brainless. Helpless. Hopeless.” With every word, Hagrid shriveled, his large form seeming small under Lucius’ displeasure. “Do you want me to send you back to where you were? Unemployed?”

A silence fell over the deck, which rocked gently in the water. Lucius gave a condescending sniff and turned on his heel, walking through a small door near the back of the boat that led to the quarters below.

Harry looked at Hagrid, his expression softening as he viewed his large friend. He walked over him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “That Lucius,” he said pointedly. “He can fuss.”

Hagrid looked up at him, smiling sadly. “Not now Harry, I’m no’ in the mood.”

“C’mon Hagrid,” Harry encouraged. “Show off your talents.”

Hagrid sat up a little straighter, gazing thoughtfully into the sky and muttering, “Fuss, fuss…” Harry smiled as he watched him, then Hagrid lit up. “He really likes to scream at us.”

“Probably,” Harry said, returning Hagrid’s grin as they stood to tend to the boat, pleased that his friend was feeling better. “He means no harm.”

Hagrid went to the tiller, steering the ship as he tapped his foot, contemplative. “He’s really... very short on… charm.”

“Ah, my friend,” Harry exclaimed, clapping Hagrid on the shoulder. “You have a great gift for rhyme.”

“Yes, yes,” Hagrid agreed, smiling. “Some of the time.”

“Enough of that,” Lucius’ sharp voice cracked through the doorway, into the open air.

“Hagrid,” Harry shouted, leaping onto a bench and peering into the distance. “Are there rocks ahead?”

Hagrid leaned his head back and roared. “If there are, we all be dead!”

The two dissolved into laughter as Lucius yelled again. “No more rhymes now, I mean it!”

Hagrid glanced at Harry, who nodded encouragingly. He grinned. “Anybody want a peanut?”

Lucius screamed angrily and slammed the door shut. 

* * *

Hours later, the ship cruised through the waters, the sun having long since set. Harry now sat at the helm, glancing over his shoulder into the darkness every couple of minutes. Lucius was perched in the bow, staring ahead impatiently, while Hagrid lounged on the deck, periodically checking Ron’s pulse.

“We should get there by dawn,” Lucius broke the silence. “What are you looking at?” He asked Harry suspiciously, looking agitated.

“Are you sure that no one is following us?” Harry asked. 

“It would be inconceivable,” Lucius answered confidently, turning his attention forward again.

“I think he’s wakin’ up,” Hagrid warned, as Ron began to stir. He sat up groggily with Hagrid’s assistance, looking disoriented.

“Wha- where am I?” He looked around the boat, taking in his companions. “Who are you?” No one answered his questions, and he began shouting again in irritation. “When the Princess finds you, she’ll kill you all.”

Lucius tsked dismissively. “Of all the necks on this boat, you should be most worried about your own.” His gaze drifted over Ron’s shoulder. “WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?” He yelled at Harry, who was staring off the back of the vessel again.

“You’re really sure that no one is following us?” Harry repeated, and Lucius rolled his eyes.

“It would be absolutely inconceivable.” He huffed and peered forward, before whipping around to look at Harry again. “Why on earth do you keep asking?”

“It’s just that, whenever I look back, I can see another boat,” Harry explained, causing Lucius to yelp and leap across the deck. 

The night was dark, but the clouds parted long enough for moonlight to expose the sails of a ship following them at a short distance. Lucius sucked in a breath, “why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I tried,” Harry bristled, but Lucius cut him off.

“No one knows what we’ve done,” he rambled, pacing back and forth on the deck. “So they can’t be after us, no. It’s probably just a local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise,” he looked off the back of the boat, nervously. “At night.” He gulped. “Through Serpent infested waters.”

There was a splash, and Hagrid yelped. Lucius and Harry turned around to see that Ron had leapt off the ship and was swimming towards the shore. 

“Bring the boat around,” Lucius yelled, and his lackeys jumped into action. Lucius leaned off the side just as several low, musical notes echoed around the channel. 

The water around Ron began to churn, and he stopped to tread water, looking around him at the dark shapes in the water, circling him. 

“Do you hear that?” Lucius’ soft voice danced across the open space to Ron. “Those are the Horned Serpents.” The musical notes began to swell in volume, as the water churned more urgently. “They always grow louder when they’re about to feed,” Lucius said. “If you swim back to us now, we can promise a painless death. You’ll get no such offer from the Serpents.”

The head of one of the creatures breached the surface of the water near Ron, exposing the jewel on its forehead, centered between its twin curled horns, before the creature dipped under the water again. Ron turned in a circle, watching their movements fearfully, although he didn’t make any other noises. 

Behind him, the water rippled quietly as one of the creatures targeted him, cutting a direct path towards him. Ron heard it too late, turning around only in time to see its massive fangs as the Serpent extended its jaws, so close to him now, and-

“Protego!”

Ron winced as the Horned Serpent hit the shield charm at full force, its impact a sickening thud against the nonvisible barrier. A large arm latched onto his shirt collar, pulling him out of the water effortlessly and dropping him unceremoniously onto the deck of the boat. 

Ron laid helpless, visibly shaking in the mutual wake of nearly being eaten by a water monster and the defeat of not being able to escape. 

“Secure his hands,” Lucius spat impatiently, once he’d seen that Ron was alive. Harry sheathed his wand. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’ll be at the Cliffs by dawn.”

Harry knelt in front of Ron, tying his arms together with a thick rope. Ron watched the process silently, glaring stubbornly, and Harry granted him a begrudging respect, nearly regretting his actions. 

“Wha’ Cliffs?” Hagrid asked.

Lucius pointed dramatically off the front of the boat. “The Cliffs of Insanity.”


End file.
